


Help

by gingayellow



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-16
Updated: 2018-05-16
Packaged: 2019-05-07 15:46:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14674290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gingayellow/pseuds/gingayellow
Summary: Shiro just wants to be useful--which isn't easy, when you have concrete proof that you're a burden. That you're unworthy of love. [Shiro/Keith, angst/fluff]





	Help

Title: Help  
Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender  
Characters/Pairing: Shiro/Keith  
Rating: PG-13  
Disclaimer: Not mine, anything mentioned here by name isn't mine  
Warnings: There’s nothing I feel I need to warn for (let me know if I do!), but Shiro is going through a lot of self-loathing in this story, and he’s not coping with it well.  
Notes: I am feeling exceptionally sad and lonely tonight, so I wrote this.

\--

Shiro clapped his mouth shut, jaw muscles straining with effort, left hand flying to muffle himself before he could make things worse, but it was too late. 

He’d snapped. At his doctor. His wonderfully patient doctor, who’d set up a sliding scale for payments, who was Matt and Pidge’s father. This—this wasn’t good, people didn’t like it when you got mad, they liked it when you were happy, ready-to-please, he had to **fix this** —

“I-I’m sorry,” he said, as if that did any good. As if he was any good. “I didn’t mean that, and I’m really sorry—”

“Shiro.” Dr. Holt placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’ve been doing this for twenty years. I’ve heard much worse than ‘that’s too much for me.’” His tone and smile were gentle, meant to put Shiro at ease. it didn’t.

“That’s no excuse.” Shiro went to gather his things, which wasn’t easy when you were one-handed, but he was focused on speed right now. “I’ll get my prosthetic and—”

“Shiro.” Twenty years of experience were in Dr. Holt’s tone. “Follow me.” Shiro did as he asked.

Dr. Holt led him out of the room, down the hall, and into what Shiro presumed was Dr. Holt’s personal office, based off the diplomas and pictures of the Holt family. Dr. Holt motioned to a plush chair across from his chair. Wary but willing to obey, Shiro sat while Dr. Holt bent at the waist, rummaging through his mini-fridge.

“My darling wife makes cheesecake that is scientifically proven to knock your socks off. I always keep a slice to get me through rough days,” Dr. Holt began amicably, presenting a small slice of said cheesecake wrapped in clear plastic and on a paper plate. He unwrapped it, the placed a plastic fork in Shiro’s left hand. “I’m guessin’ you might need it more than I do today.”

“Thank you, but I’m not hungry,” Shiro said politely, and automatically. 

Dr. Holt gave him a look. “Matt told me that you routinely hold his Gunpla hostage until he gives you his cheesecake.”

“I’m…. not proud of that, sir.”

“You should be! Look, you’re having a bad day. Dig in.”

“I can’t stay. I’ll miss my bus.”

“I’ll drive you home.”

Dr. Holt wasn’t going to let go of this, so Shiro took a bite, and it was just as good as Dr. Holt claimed. It was also the first solid thing he’d had to eat all day. He knew it was important to eat, but he had to grab the first bus, and it took over an hour to get to the office, and…

God. He was crying. He was a grown man, and he was crying over a cheesecake. 

“Shiro.” Dr. Holt’s voice was so gentle it hurt. “I know you’re tried of the appointments and having to travel so far away from home. But Doctor Vakala is the only one who can provide the upgrades and repairs for your prosthetic.”

“Yes, sir.” Despite himself, Shiro had another bite of cheesecake. “I just. I don’t drive anymore after the accident.”

“And I’m guessin’ extended amounts of public transportation is not an option as well?”

Shiro shook his head. “I had a mild panic attack on the bus here. I thought I’d avoid the worst of it if I left early, but the college students are back in town.” Very loud college students with no concept of personal space. 

“Well, what about my boy or Keith?”

“Matt’s busy with school, and Keith is busy with work.” He was not going to burden them anymore than he already had. 

Dr. Holt looked like he wanted to say something, and Shiro braced himself for a stern scolding, but he turned his attention to his computer for a moment, then smiled at Shiro again. “Look. Despite what my receptionist says, we don’t have set everything in stone right away. How ‘bout you call me in forty-eight hours, and we figure out what to do then, okay?”

“Okay.” Shiro didn’t like that, but what he really wanted—for the need for a second appointment with a doctor he knew nothing about, who lived a whole state away to magically disappear—wasn’t going to happen. 

“Fantastic! And also.” Dr. Holt took out a tiny bottle of milk from the fridge, popped the lid, and placed it next to the cheesecake. “Somethin’ to wash it down with before we pick up your prosthetic and go.”

Shiro still felt guilty, but between the relief that he didn’t have to figure this out right away and his weakness for dairy products won out.

\--

“Remember, you’re calling me day after tomorrow, all right?”

“Yes, sir.” Shiro eased himself out of the car. He was still shocked that someone as avuncular as Dr. Holt could drive something so neon green and loud, but he had a shelf full of _Star Trek_ merchandise, so he couldn’t judge.

“Good. Remember, you have friends who want to help. I’m among them. Tell Keith I said hi!” Shiro flinched as the car roared off.

Thanks to Dr. Holt, he was home earlier than he thought he’d be. He… he needed to take advantage of that. If he just sat around like a lump, he would waste the afternoon. He’d already wasted enough of Dr. Holt’s time, he reminded himself as he unlocked the door to the apartment he shared with Keith. The apartment that Keith was paying for unassisted, since Shiro had to quit his job and then school because of his God-forsaken accident. He needed to help out. Do a load of the laundry that was piling up. Or the dishes that were overflowing in the sink. Or sweep, to take out the trash, or… it was too much. He was too tired.

Lately, it was always too much, and he was always too tired. God, no wonder Keith was in a hurry to leave for work lately, he was sick of Shiro—

Shiro pressed the palms of both hands, flesh and metal, into his closed eyes, forcing himself to not cry. No. Don’t be clingy. Nobody likes a clingy person. 

They like people who are useful. Who are good.

He would be useful and good for Keith.

Maybe a small break—just five minutes. Just long enough to collect himself. He would sit on the couch for five minutes, and then do the housework. 

\--

Shiro groaned softly, trying to wake fully, but he’d been so worried about the appointment, he’d gotten about only four hours of sleep last night. He tried to focus on his surroundings. There was a couch spring digging into his spine. The washer machine was running. And Keith was humming to himself as he unloaded groceries into the pantry.

“Hey, darlin’.” Keith said from the kitchen. “I figured you’d be too wiped to cook, so I picked up some sandwiches from the supermarket’s deli. Ham for me and turkey with every kind of cheese they have for you.” He was muttering something about thanking God for boyfriends with predictable tastes when Shiro remembered. Everything. 

God, he was a mess. 

“Keith, let me set the table—”

“Woah, Shiro—”

Shiro cried out as in his haste, his leg hit one of the chairs. God, he couldn’t even help out his boyfriend, he, he couldn’t—

“Darlin’.”

“Don’t,” Shiro did his best not to growl, did his best not to pull away from the hand on his back. His leg hurt. His head hurt. Everything hurt. “I can’t.”

“Can’t what?”

“I can’t be what you need me to be,” he forced out, hating himself as the tears fell.

“You know that was never part of the equation,” Keith said, like he always did when Shiro was like this. He must be so tired of hand-holding him. “All I want is—”

“Someone who can’t even get through an afternoon without crying?!”

… Now Shiro did leave, heading for the bathroom, slamming the door behind him, too shaky to even cry. He—he had yelled at Keith. The person he loved more than anything. God. He was right, he was right, he was a terrible person, irredeemable, he was bad and nobody wanted bad people—

“Shiro.” Keith said, voice muffled by the door between them. “When we first met, I was the one who couldn’t get through an afternoon without crying. You sayin’ I’m not worth wanting?”

“God, no, of course not. Don’t ever think that…” The tears were coming again, but he was too tired to even hate himself for that right now. “I’m sorry, Keith.”

“Don’t worry about that. Just… please. Open the door and talk to me.”

Shiro opened the door, but the sobs were full-force before he could talk. Thankfully, Keith didn’t care. He just held him through the storm.

\--

“Sorry for the tears on your shirt. And, um, the snot.”

Keith, now clad in the old, tattered (but clean) Go Lion Con 2014 shirt Shiro couldn’t bear to throw away, shrugged. “I needed a change anyways.” He set out a TV tray. “How’s your leg?”

Keith had already insisted they check, after Shiro had calmed down, but after everything Shiro supposed he couldn’t fault him for being over protective. Shiro rolled up his sweat pants (he’d also changed). There was an ugly bruise, but nothing worse than that. “I’ll manage.”

“Let me know if you can’t,” Keith said as he handed him a soda, then wrapped him in a bright red blanket. Shiro sipped his drink silently while Keith brought up Netflix on the TV.

Shiro blinked at his decision. “ _Star Trek: The Next Generation_? Really, Keith?”

Keith glanced at him. “Isn’t it your favorite show?”

“It is. But I thought you hated it.”

“I don’t hate it!” Keith coughed. “In fact, the Worf episodes are kinda cool.”

Shiro felt himself really smile for the first time that day. “Well, thanks.” He ate the sandwich as Picard solved moral and/or scientific dilemmas, while Worf yearned for true honor. After he’d eaten, Shiro rested his head against Keith’s shoulder, wrapping the blanket around him more securely. “You know, you’ve had this blanket for as long as I’ve known you, but I don’t know where you got it.” It was a crochet blanket, and the yarn had that rough but warm quality that came with older, home-made crafts.

“My mother made it,” Keith confirmed as his arm tightened around Shiro. “It’s my evidence that she didn’t really want to leave me. That there was some other reason that she…”

Shiro kissed Keith’s cheek. He was a mess, but he could do this for Keith. “I love you.”

Keith hummed. “Please remember that next time you feel you have to be ‘useful’ to deserve basic human compassion or whatever.”

“I’ll try.” Some things were just ingrained in him at this point, but he was tired of his negative thoughts always winning out. Maybe Dr. Holt was right…

Hmm.

He took a deep breath. “Um, Keith?”

“Yes, darlin’?”

“Um.” Honestly. “Dr. Holt says that my prosthetic needs some more work.” When Keith nodded, he continued, “but the specialist is in another state. Keith, I totally understand if you can’t do it, but I would feel more comfortable if you drove me. Again, if you can’t, don’t worry, I’ll—”

“I’ll do it.”

“S-Seriously?”

“Seriously.” Keith took out his phone. “Just tell me the date, and I’ll text Hunk that I can’t make it.”

“I,” Shiro ducked his head. “I don’t want you to get into trouble at work.”

“I haven’t used any of my vacation time this year. It’s fine.” He kissed Shiro on the lips. “And even if it weren’t, I’d take you anywhere, anytime.”

Shiro smiled at Keith dreamily. “That is the most… impractical thing I’ve ever heard of in my life.”

Keith smirked. “And that’s why I feel in love with you. Your crummy sense of humor.”

“Darn straight,” Shiro said as he rested his head in Keith’s lap. He wasn’t happy about the trip that they had to make soon. But he’d have Keith to support him—and Keith was happy to do that.

That made it easier.


End file.
